


An Ancient & Innovative Kind of Love

by kaghani



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, Humor, Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 17:01:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4927813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaghani/pseuds/kaghani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles on Korra and Asami's relationship. Comes with love and a full range of emotions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. run

**Author's Note:**

> Each drabble is based on a one-word prompt. Hopefully, by the end, there'll be 30 of these!
> 
> I was hoping to post five at I time. I really liked the way this one came out, though. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Characters, places, etc not mine

Republic City sometimes has a lot to pay for a couple of girls as competitive as Korra and Asami playfully challenging each other to races across town.

“I don't believe the time! You really outdid yourself this time, Asami,” Korra’d said, setting down her helmet to run her fingers along the side of Asami’s newest spirit energy-powered hover-car prototype. It’s sleek and shiny and gorgeous – Korra can almost imagine Asami being inspired by her own luxurious hair. She’d turned to face Asami, waggling her eyebrows. “But if you wanted to get somewhere so fast, you could have just called me, you know.”

 Asami had crossed her arms, narrowed her eyes, and smiled wickedly down at her. “What are you suggesting?”

Fifteen minutes later, Korra leaves behind scorched lawns, uprooted trees, giant icicles in the middle of her namesake park, blocks of raised pavement, and swearing motorists – a trail of destruction so obviously leading to Korra, like she’d marked her path with red paint.

_Whatever_. She’ll ask Asami to help explain to Beifong afterwards.

Korra’s got that last stretch of the bay left. She raises the surface of the water into a bridge of ice and widens her stance to glide easily around Aang’s memorial, heads straight for Air Temple Island. She  _sees_ the rough-housing little airbenders, she can practically  _smell_ Pema’s fruit pies, she’s going to get there first,  _she’s going to win_ ….

She skids to a stop on the docks, about to pump her fists in the air – and there Asami is, in a shady corner, goggles propped over her forehead, leaning back against her new favorite baby and examining her nails as if there was ever anything imperfect about them. When she looks up at Korra, her smile is too smug. But she can’t ever keep any kind of “I mean business” face when it comes to Korra, so she dissolves into giggles just a second later. Korra joins her and laughs, running towards her to pick her up and set her down on the hood. 

“Good of you to finally show, Avatar,” Asami breathes, minutes later, slick red lips gone pink and raw. Korra shivers, thinking about how her own mouth must look, swollen and stained sloppily with Asami's lipstick.

She drums her fingers on Asami's waist, grinning. “You’re coming with me to the precinct.”

“Korraaaa…” Asami groans.


	2. grow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look, this is just morning fluff, but it get's pretty suggestive! (in fact, let me know if i should up the rating)  
> ((i already made it G --> T))

As she grows older (and her life more hectic), Korra becomes less and less of a morning person and develops a real fondness for those slow, lazy weekend mornings – those days when she wakes up to the sun high in the sky and burrows herself in sheets that smell like soap and whatever perfume Asami’d had on the night before. She loves stretching luxuriously and calling Asami’s name, telling her to get her nerdy ass back in bed.

“Mornings can be so inspiring, Korra,” Asami’d said, once, indulging Korra in a morning – or afternoon? – cuddle. “Sunrises, and early morning tea, and the sounds of the city waking up…”

“I’ll show you _inspiring_ ,” Korra’d grumbled, pushing herself off her elbow and shifting Asami over to her back, wasting no time in ducking her head under the sheets and between Asami’s thighs, relishing the sound of a sharp gasp swallowing up her giggles…

But somewhere through the years, Asami’s passion for finding the beauty and grace in everything grows on Korra.

So even though the glow behind the curtains is more gray and faint than the blinding midmorning sun, Korra rubs the crustiness from her eyes. She lays there for a minute, breathing in the jasmine scent of Asami’s hair and clutching her tighter against her front.

A ridiculous urge has her untangling their legs, pressing a kiss to Asami’s shoulder, and getting up to stretch and use the bathroom. She even hums a little tune to herself as she opens the drapes and the window and floats over the terrace railing and into the practice ground Asami’d thoughtfully built for her.

By the time the sun peeks over the towering buildings of the financial district, she’s gone through a million sets of every exercise she’s ever known and eighty of her favorite firebending forms. She’s drenched in sweat, ready to eat an ostrich-horse, and although she’s really good at maintaining her body temperature, she feels like she could die if she doesn’t get a glass of water. She also sort of wants to crawl back in bed.

“Good morning, sweetie.”

Korra turns, and there her girlfriend stands – sheer, flimsy robe cinched loosely around her waist with a ribbon, just so Korra gets a glimpse of lacey pink lingerie. Her hair looks professionally disheveled, and while Korra appreciates the red lipstick and way makeup makes her green eyes pop, the thought of kissing Asami’s bare lips can be just as exhilarating. The golden glow of the early morning sun bathes her in an enticing, ethereal light.

There’s a teacup in Asami’s hand. Korra draws her shoulders back and grins. If it’s a little wolfish, who can blame her? “Is that for me?” She moistens her lips.

“Yes.” The sleepy voice, the teasing tone, and the playful way Asami tilts her head is enough for Korra to reconsider her philosophy on mornings (that is, ‘Mornings are Evil’). When she saunters over to Korra, the precarious knot of the ribbon holding the robe together slipping with every step, Korra feels like she could wake up at the crack of dawn every single day if this is what she gets to see. She gets close enough to hand the cup to Korra. “Isn’t this nice?”

Korra takes the cup and brings it to her lips, dragging her eyes all over Asami’s form before taking a sip. Her heart races as she watches a little shiver run through Asami’s body. “It’s gorgeous.”

Asami doesn’t say anything; she just reaches over and tangles her hands in Korra’s hair to draw her into a deep, searing kiss.

“I’m sweaty,” Korra gasps, trying to focus on holding onto the teacup in her one hand. (Asami’d gone through the trouble of matching it with her outfit, and it would be a shame if it broke.)

“Mmmm….” Asami moans, pressing herself closer to Korra, and that’s it. She detaches herself for just a second, sending the teacup on a small cyclone to the ground. She makes quick work of the delicate robe and picks Asami up, so she can wrap her legs around Korra’s waist. Korra walks them over to a lounge chair, Asami drags her nails through Korra's scalp, and Korra sucks bruises into pale flesh once she has her laid out on the chair, chest heaving...

“I uh…” Korra says, out of breath, basking in the afterglow and in the sun. “Um…”

Asami giggles and throws her leg over Korra’s hip and curls so she can nestle her head under Korra’s chin. “I told you mornings can be inspiring.”


	3. fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (recycled from my contribution to korrasami month prompt "autumn", actually) ((i'm a dirty, dirty cheater))

Korra's staring at Naga, watching her amuse herself with scattering fallen leaves, when Asami shows - a little bit late - for their picnic-date. 

Her head surfaces over the curve of the hill, pink-cheeked and so out of breath, it worries Korra for a second. But then Asami takes another stumbling step forward and Korra sees the dozen or so shopping bags dangling off her arms. 

In the past few years, Korra’s come to realize just how ridiculous her girlfriend could sometimes be. 

Naga lets out a “woof” to go and greet her. 

“Sorry I’m so late, sweetheart!” Asami calls between giggles, trapped and guarding her precious merchandise where poor Naga’s frantically circling her, trying to figure out how to help. Korra makes her way toward the endearing travesty with a grudging smile. 

“I see you got a little side-tracked,” Korra says, taking a second to admire the pretty flush of exertion on Asami’s cheeks. She slides her hands and arms through the loops, so they’re both carrying the bags for a second. Korra pauses, leans up to peck Asami’s smiling lips, before lifting the bags off her arms. 

Naga takes the opportunity to tackle the dis-burdened Asami to the ground while Korra jogs back up to the picnic spot with the cargo. She has to admit, it’s pretty heavy stuff. 

She relaxes on the blanket and watches her girlfriend and Naga, laughing and rough-housing on the lawn. Naga loves Asami, so she loves slobbering all over Asami’s immaculate, made-up face. Asami, always gracious, plays along, but she’s taken to carrying a few extra supplies to fix her makeup on hand for afterward. 

Korra peeks in one of the bags, only to surface teary-eyed and in a fit of coughs a moment later. If suffocating is what it took to buy perfume, Korra thinks she’ll never understand how Asami goes through it periodically. 

Just as Korra’s finished, Asami and Naga come up to her. 

“Korra, sweetie, I told you not to inhale perfume from the bottle directly. You have to waft.” She looks up from her mirror to demonstrate, fanning her hand through the air earnestly. 

Korra snorts. “Whatever. It seems sort of  _toxic_ , but if you say so...”

They spend a nice Friday-afternoon picnic together. The foliage is beautiful and the air is just starting to get a little chilly. Korra thinks it’s her favorite time of year, when she and Asami can enjoy a little hot tea on their picnics and Asami always snuggles a little closer to Korra when they’re out. It’s just crisp enough for Korra to not wear sleeves, which she always appreciates, and Asami starts bringing out all her cute accessories, which she also appreciates. 

Naga dozes nearby. Some cops chase down a couple of kids who’d waterbended a fish out of the lake, and Korra’s reminded of that first autumn when she arrived in Republic City, all those years back. She turns to Asami. “Did I tell you about that time when that happened to me?”

Asami smiles and stretches her legs out over Korra’s. “You’re kidding, right? It was in the papers, Korra.”

“Right: ‘The Avatar Threatens the Balance of Our Parks’ Ecosystem’. Beifong shat on me a lot in the press back then.” She frowns guiltily; swearing around Asami always makes her feel icky. “Sorry.”

Asami shrugs. “It’s true. But now she knows you’re a hero.” She lays a hand on Korra’s temple, brushes it over her hair and down the side of her neck, where she lets it linger. Korra thinks she’s about to get a kiss, when Asami’s eyes suddenly go wide. “How could I forget!” She exclaims, lifting her legs off Korra so she can lean over and rummage through the bags. 

“What?” Korra asks. 

Asami makes a little sound and grasps one of the bags, clutching it to her chest and crossing her legs. “Look,” she starts, and her excitement radiates off her despite her collected manner. “I know you’re not really into accessorizing for Fall. But I walked by the Four Nations Boutique -” she reaches into her bag and fishes out a navy-blue scarf - “and I saw this beautiful scarf that matches your arm-warmers exactly, and it’s light enough for you, and it’s so soft!”

She extends it out to her, and Korra takes it wordlessly, runs her fingers over the thin material. It really is soft. 

“It looks almost sheer,” Asami continues, and Korra looks up to see a slight pink tinting her cheeks, “but you wont  _believe_ it’s ultra-thin cashmere!”

Korra brings the fabric up to her cheek. It’s  _so_ soft and light. It’s not something Korra would have thought to give a second glance to. 

“It’s...okay if you don’t like it.” Asami’s staring at her, still smiling, but considerably less excited. 

Korra wonders how long she’d been dumbly staring at the scrap of cloth, and how it must have seemed. She rushes to make amends. “I...love it! Really, I swear. It’s perfect. It’s like...too gorgeous, though. I’m liable to get it messed up, you know?”

“I’ll buy another one!” Asami says eagerly, before blushing bright red at letting her privileged upbringing slip in such a callous way.

Korra just laughs, though. Asami’s done more with her wealth to help the world than she has to help herself. 

“Fine,  _Miss Sato_ ,” Korra says, and lays the material around her neck. “Am I wearing it right, or...?”

Asami’s eyes sparkle then. She reaches out for one of the ends. “Here. Let me...” She loops the scarf around Korra’s neck another time and tucks one end in between the layers, and pulls at the loop to make it loose around Korra’s neck. “There,” she says, smiling shyly at Korra, using her grip on the scarf to tug her gently close. When Asami kisses her, Korra feels like the bright colors of autumn become a thousand times more vivid. 

Korra smirks against her lips. “I think I know why you got me this.”

Asami only giggles, tugging her in for another one. 


	4. smile

The night of Jinora’s anointment is probably not how airbenders of old celebrated coming-of-age.

Ikki’d insisted on utilizing her paint splattered rags; they hang festooned around Air Temple Island, and adorned with the little electric lanterns hanging from them – Asami’s own contribution – they look beautiful. And while all of the food is vegetarian, Avatar Aang’s eldest children are rather fond of alcohol, so in the name of the new Air Nation, Kya and Bumi drink (and drink, and  _drink_ ) to Jinora’s accomplishments. Their brother frowns, but doesn’t stop them. Jinora, herself, pink-cheeked and at the center of attention, sticks to her peers, allowing them to fawn over her new tattoos and playfully call her ‘Master Jinora’. Tenzin leaves her alone – Asami sees his hand twitching with the occasional urge to draw her away from what he’d call ‘all the frivolity’, but even he can’t deny her bright smile and happiness, not even for the sake of solemn observation of an age-old tradition.

The new Air Nation is just that:  _new_. It’s a wonderful thing to see Tenzin, with all his stubborn ways, make room for it. He’s come far.

Asami is admiring the ambience of the party from their spot near the temple when she feels a cool, feeble hand on hers, where she’s gripping a handle of Korra’s wheelchair. She whips her head around and leans down, taking Korra’s hand in between hers.

Her heart clenches painfully every time she sees the exhaustion in Korra’s eyes. They’re sunken in and rimmed with a sleepless black, and they’re the kind of puffy that Asami knows to be from crying.

There are other physiological repercussions to being put through the wringer like Korra had. The plate on Korra’s lap is pretty much untouched, and it’s becoming easier and easier – at least, on Asami’s spine, if not her mind – to lift Korra from her wheelchair and into bed at night. Tonraq had brought some Water Tribe stew in hopes that it would stoke her appetite better than various vegetarian custards, but that’s not the problem. Asami’d been the one to hold her head over a basin for three straight days – until Korra gave up on that.

“Need something?” Asami asks in the gentlest voice she can manage. She strokes the back of Korra’s hand.

“No, it’s…” Korra lets out a breath, looks down at the vegetables and rice flakes on her plate. “It’s getting kind of cold. Could you maybe find my mom and ask her to take me inside?” Her voice is so heartbreakingly quiet, Asami has to swallow down a lump in her throat.

“Korra. I’ll take you inside.” Asami gives Korra’s hand a squeeze and smiles, and she moves to wheel her out of the courtyard. They make it through the corridor and into the lounge, dimly lit and still warm from the fire that had been going earlier that evening. Korra reaches back, meaning to touch Asami’s hand, but it doesn’t quite make it all the way, sort of groping at her own shoulder instead.

“This is fine. Thanks.”

“You want to stay here?”

“For a while. Maybe just tell my mom I’m here? I don’t want to keep you. You planned this whole party, and you can’t even enjoy it because…” Her tone, flat and tired these days, inflects up a few octaves.

_Because of me._

“What? Korra, I’m having such a great time with you.” Her stomach does a little cringe at how stupid that’d sounded. Asami doesn’t even have the right to be upset about the way Korra frowns. She chews the inside of her cheek and sheepishly keeps her eyes trained on their hands. “That was…not tactful of me.”

Korra looks up and raises an eyebrow at that.

“Korra – I’m not going to take that back, exactly. What I was trying to say is that I wouldn’t rather be anywhere but where you need me. Honest.”

Korra’s eyes start to shine, and Asami pitches forward and wraps her arms around Korra’s neck. Korra smells like Asami’s own ylang-ylang soap and jasmine-scented shampoo, from when she’d helped her get ready this morning. Asami wonders, somewhere in the recesses of her mind, if it’s to offer comfort for Korra or for herself. What would it be like, seeing Korra cry? How unbearable would that be?

“You  _are_  there. You’re  _always_  there,” Korra says, muffled and shaky from where her mouth is pressed against Asami’s collarbone. Asami holds her tighter.

She  _knows_  it’s good for Korra to be expressive and cry if she needs to. Korra’s the kind of person who’d take hit after hit and then smile for Tenzin’s kids. Play with Naga. Laugh at a dumb joke to not hurt Bolin’s feelings.

It makes her entirely too selfish, too undeserving of someone like Korra, but Asami thinks she would still find the sight of Korra crying entirely too unbearable.

They stay like that for a few moments. Asami a strokes hand over the top of Korra’s head, from her hairline down to where the cap is pinned at her crown.

“Korra,” Asami starts, tentatively, “If I say something, or if I  _do_ something, and you don’t want me to, will you tell me? I want to be someone you can…trust, and be comfortable with.” Korra deserves that much out of her, at least.

She’s silent for just a moment. “Asami…you’re the one who’s been the most…understanding, out of everyone. I feel the  _most_  comfortable around you.”

“So…you think I’m doing a good job? Being a supportive friend for you?”

When Korra pulls away to look at her this time, Asami swears she forgets how to breathe. A smile, real and genuine, touches Korra’s weary eyes in a way Asami hasn’t seen in weeks.

“You’re cute,” Korra says, and Asami’s heart stops alongside her breathing. All the blood in her body rushes to her cheeks, and she’s suddenly very aware of how close their faces are. The skin around Korra’s nose is a little dry, and her hairline, usually hidden by bangs, forms a subtle widow’s peak, like Asami’s. Her eyebrows are thick and dark, and there’s a sparse patch of hair between them. (Asami may or may not be dying to take some tweezers to it.)

Forcing herself out of the stupor, she steps back, clears her throat, and offers a smile, squeezing Korra’s hand one last time before moving to the back of the wheelchair again.

“Come on. Those pins in your hair must be something of a drag by now.”

Korra huffs a little and tugs at the bun. “Tell me about it.”

Asami giggles. “I could tell you about my old governesses and how they liked to stick them in my head, but…”

She undoes the pins and the bun in her hair, still marveling at the way she’d been the one to make Korra smile like that. Later that night, when Senna’s helped Korra change into pajamas, Asami presses a kiss to her forehead after pulling the sheets under her neck.

Maybe Asami could really help her through this. Maybe they would spend the next few weeks together, touring the newest additions to the factory and writing that proposal for incorporating the spirit wilds into the city’s infrastructure – the one Asami’d been meaning to write for ages, now – together. She’d find new ways to make Korra smile, make her happy. She’d take her to the best healers in the city, Korra will be out of that wheelchair and happy and smiling and stronger than ever in no time…

And Asami would be right at her side…

* * *

 

A week later, Korra tells Asami she’s going back to the South Pole. Of course, Asami supports her decision wholly, and the Water Tribe could possibly be a good change in environment for her, after all she’d gone through in Republic City.

Korra tells says she’d rather Asami not come.

Asami watches the ship recede until it’s a speck on the horizon. She doesn’t allow herself to be even a little bit disappointed, because this is most certainly  _not_ about her. 

But if Asami had been a better friend, a better person – someone who could really deserve Korra – would Korra have stayed?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Please let me know if I haven't tagged this sufficiently.)
> 
> Thanks for reading!!! xx


	5. distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asami gets distracted watching Korra cook.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Old-school style, 100 word drabble :)

Flour, salt. Seasoning and oil. Chop, chop. Onions and tomatoes in the batter. Calloused hands crack four eggs against the bowl.

Korra cooks like she waterbends – _fluid_ ; each movement draws momentum from the previous. She tosses an omelet without a spatula, and her ropey back muscles flex like _sin_ under that tank top when she sets the pan back.

So distracted is Asami, she jumps like a spooked horse when Korra slides an omelet in front of her with a mischievous smile.

Asami takes a bite, closes her eyes, and moans in delight.

It’s Korra’s turn to watch Asami distractedly.


End file.
